


part of your world

by 1000_directions



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Mermaids, Public Sex, Trans Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 19:48:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12991248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000_directions/pseuds/1000_directions
Summary: Camille’s hair ruffles wildly in the wind, and Harry catches it with one palm, smoothing it away from her face as he ducks his head a little to kiss her. She kisses him back nice and sweet, just the one time, and then she shoves him gently and sprints towards the surf.“Kiss me in the sea or don’t kiss me at all!” she yells at him over her shoulder.Harry and Camille go to the seaside.





	part of your world

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alexenglish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/gifts).



> I wanted to write a positive story celebrating trans bodies. In this story, Harry is a trans man who has had top surgery. He loves his body, and he has a partner who loves his body, and he does not experience any dysphoria. This story is not meant to be representative of all trans experiences, and as I am a cis girl, it might not be representative of any trans experiences. I did consult with a trans friend during and after writing this story because it was important to me that this story not be offensive or tokenistic. However, I alone am responsible for any issues within the final story. I can be reached at [tumblr](http://1000-directions.tumblr.com) to discuss any concerns.
> 
> Please note that Camille accidentally misgenders one of Harry’s tattoos. Harry corrects her right away, and she apologizes and is sincerely sorry about it.
> 
> Thank you so, so much to Angela for [these extremely beautiful mermaids](http://1000-directions.tumblr.com/post/169897163289/omg-just-look-at-these-beautiful-mermaids-that) that she crocheted for me, based on Harry and Camille from this story!!!!! Wow!!!!!!!!
> 
>  
> 
> This story is for Alex, who makes the world better by being part of it.

Lately, Harry can’t stop seeing the world as a series of photographs. Timid rays of sun curl through his curtains and stripe his duvet different colours, and he freezes the moment in his mind, serene and silent and perfectly fixed in place for all eternity. There’s an iridescence to his half-drunk cup of afternoon coffee, and it’s beautiful, and maybe it’s not quite art, but perhaps it’s worth preserving anyway. He imagines these frames of his life like Polaroid pictures, scuffed and cherished and then tucked into some forgotten shoebox at the back of someone’s closet. A moment so loved that it needed to be saved, lost among so many other moments like it.

He’s at the beach with Camille, camera slung around his neck like always. He holds his eye to the viewfinder and looks for something lovely. He doesn’t focus on anything in particular, and he doesn’t take any pictures at all of this particular view, but as he pans the panorama, shapes pass in and out of frame, shadows and light converging on the sparkling water that comes alive just to exhaust itself, and he thinks to himself, _click, click, click_.

“Put that thing down,” Camille says, and Harry and his camera turn to the left, scanning the deserted beach for her face. “I want to kiss you in the sea.”

He locates her in frame, and this time, he does take the picture. The sea is a blur behind her, but she’s perfectly in focus: lopsided smile, generous dusting of freckles across her nose, one eye just a little bit smaller than the other. Perfect.

She eases her shirt off over her head, and then he does put the camera down, nestling it carefully back into its case before he jogs over to her, kicking up sand as he awkwardly shuffles in her direction. By the time he gets there, she’s just wearing her faded bikini bottoms and a smile. Her hair ruffles wildly in the wind, and he catches it with one palm, smoothing it away from her face as he ducks his head a little to kiss her. She kisses him back nice and sweet, just the one time, and then she shoves him gently and sprints towards the surf.

“Kiss me in the sea or don’t kiss me at all!” she yells at him over her shoulder. She looks like a movie star, and it knocks him off his feet sometimes, the idea that he gets to have this. _Click_.

By the time he catches her, she’s up to her knees in crystal-blue water. They’re both a little clumsy as they wade through the chilly surf, but he reaches her easily and doesn’t say anything at all as he wraps her in his arms and cover her lips with his. She sighs, and her mouth falls open, and she gives, and he takes. She’s salty and sweet against his tongue, and he slides his hand up her torso, locates the staccato thump of her heart beneath her ribcage with his palm, and then he wanders to the right, thumbing at her nipple ring until she’s whimpering against his lips. She’s so easy for it, but he’s so easy for her. Even now, when he’s playing at being in control, they both know that he’s only playing.

“You’re a good kisser, Styles,” she whispers, panting hot against his mouth.

“Could live in your mouth,” he says, cupping her cheek with his left hand and tilting her face upwards. She blinks at him, eyelashes spiky with salt, and he thumbs the curve of her smile.

“I can’t tell if you’re being filthy or sweet right now,” she says.

“Both,” he promises her. “Definitely both.”

“Fuck,” she whispers, still looking him in the eye. “You’re making me wet, and it’s gonna show.”

“It’s okay,” he says, swallowing hard. “There’s no one here. I’ll take care of you.” Her expression is so open and vulnerable. The weight of her trust is so much he can’t even bear it sometimes, but he trusts her just as much, maybe even more. He leaves one hand playing with her nipple and lets the other drift down her body, tickling at her damp, velvety skin, skipping over ribs and freckles. He touches her through the fabric of her bikini bottoms, feeling her damp and eager against his middle finger. He slides his hand lower, and she gratefully grinds down onto his palm with a shudder.

It’s so easy for him to take her apart. It’s easy, and it’s hot. They’ve been together eight months now, but Harry still isn’t over her body. He loves the curves and the planes of her, how long and unruly her hair is, the way her eyes squint in the sun. He loves her body, how responsive it is, how generous she is with herself. And getting her off still gets him off, and as she works herself against his hand, moaning softly, he feels himself getting wet, too. He pushes his thighs together tight, tenses all his muscles. He loves that feeling of trying to hold back something inevitable. Push it all down before he lets himself go.

Camille blinks her eyes open, mouth slightly agape. It seems to take her a moment to focus on his face.

“Do you want me to take care of you, baby?” she asks softly.

“Yeah, please,” Harry says haltingly with a jerky nod. God, he wants it.

“I’ve got you,” she says. She wraps one arm around his neck, anchoring herself, and then she strokes at him through his shorts. He loves it like this, loves the feeling of a rough seam against his clit, and he groans as she works her knuckle against him.

“Feels so good, Cam.”

“Can’t believe I got a good boy like Harry Styles to fuck me out here in the open, where anyone else could see us,” she murmurs right against his ear.

He hadn’t thought about it like that, and he risks a glance towards the shore to make sure it’s still secluded. It is; it always is. But the possibility still makes him shiver, just like she knew it would.

“Can’t help myself,” he says. “Don’t care who sees.”

“Make me come,” she whispers, and then she’s kissing him again, and her mouth and her fingers are both rougher against him, and he sinks into each of them eagerly.

He slides his hand inside her suit, and she’s so wet that it’s shocking. It’s easy for him to slip a finger inside her, slow and deep, while she continues to grind small circles against his palm. It isn’t too much longer before her motions get jerky, and he holds her steady while she rides out her orgasm, her thighs squeezing his hand so tight that his fingers tingle.

“Fuck,” she gasps. “I can’t believe we did that.”

Her chest is heaving as she struggles for breath, and his eyes trace the arc of her nipple ring through the air. He’s like a magpie for the sparkle. She knows, and she notices.

“Put your mouth on me while I get you off,” she says.

He nods, and then he captures her nipple in his mouth, flicking the ring back and forth as she thrusts her knuckles hard against his clit. She works her free hand into his hair, close to his scalp, and it’s barely any time at all before his knees start to get wobbly, and when she yanks his hair, he comes like an inevitability. She holds him up as he shakes apart, and she gently pets his hair as he recovers with his head against her chest.

“Let’s rinse off,” she says when his breathing finally slows. “I’m all slimy.”

He follows her out to deeper water, and they both crouch down, submerged nearly up to their shoulders. Camille ducks under the water and then pops up like a seal, laughing and clapping. Harry kisses her on her wrinkled nose, then her rose-petal lips. Then she dunks him with a grin, and he drags her down, too, and they kiss twice underwater before breaking for the surface.

“Love you,” she says, hair stringy and wet in her face, teeth slightly chattering.

“Love you, too,” he says, wrapping her up in his arms, pulling her slight body against his. “Let’s get back to shore before we freeze to death.”

“Race you!” she shouts, and she’s off like a flash, and he’s chasing after her, like always.

When he gets back to their blanket, she’s already lying on her back with her face tilted towards the sun, a serene smile across her lips. He loves every last inch of her: sandy toes, one scraped-up knee, narrow hips, small tits, elegant neck.

“You look like a mermaid,” he says as he plops down onto the blanket next to her. She instantly curls into him, draping one damp leg over his.

“I wish,” she says, idly tracing over his pec scars with her wrinkled-up fingertips. “Mermaids are the sexiest.”

“You’re the sexiest,” he says, combing his fingers through her tangled hair.

“No, _you’re_ the sexiest,” she says, pushing him flat on his back and rolling on top of him. “So sexy it couldn’t all fit into just two nipples, so you ended up with four.”

“Knew you only loved me for my nipples,” he says with an easy smile. She rolls her eyes and ducks her head down, pressing chaste kisses to the lower smaller ones. Then she kisses the bigger ones properly, open-mouthed and hungry against him.

“Love everything about you,” she says softly. “You know that. Love your body.” She plants her hands on his skin, lightly ruffling his sparse chest hair. “Love your heart.”

She leans down to kiss his mouth, and he can feel the way her heart quickens against his chest. A few years ago, he never could have imagined he’d find a girl like this, and now, he can’t imagine what his life would be like without her. He slings his arms around her waist, securing her body to his, and she fits her hands to his upper arms like talons.

Harry cranes his neck to kiss her again, but her mouth is already busy elsewhere, kissing his jaw, his neck, behind his ear, rubbing her soft cheek against the stubble on his chin and then sucking a kiss to the hollow of his throat.

“You’re so fit,” she whispers. She wriggles down a bit lower so her head is level with his chest. She runs her thumb along one of his scars and then chases it with her mouth, licking and sucking her way across his body.

He loves those scars. He wasn’t sure he would, all those years ago, but there’s something about the look of his chest that he loves fiercely. Four scars, four nipples, not quite symmetrical. He looks handcrafted. Intentional. This body was lovingly, thoughtfully formed for him, and it suits him perfectly. Artisanal top surgery, he likes to say sometimes.

Truthfully, he already feels fit just on his own, and he doesn’t need her to say it to him. He likes his shorter hair with its stubborn curls, he likes the wispy mustache he grows occasionally, likes the jut of his ribs and the curve of his stomach, and he likes the cunt between his hairy legs. He loves this body, and he already know he’s sexy. But when Camille touches him, it just amplifies what he already believes. He doesn’t need to be validated, but she validates him anyway.

“Okay, but seriously, Haz,” she says a bit later, curled up against his side, her head on his chest. He’s drawing his fingers in small circles over her shoulders. “How do you even fuck a mermaid?”

“Carefully?” he hazards.

“Be serious,” she says, swatting at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise mermaid fucking was a _serious_ topic,” he says solemnly. “Please continue.”

“I’m just saying. It’s a crime. I’d go down on a mermaid in a second, and they haven’t even got a pussy.”

“My mermaid has a pussy,” he says, slinging his left arm across his chest so they can both see his tattoo.

“That is true,” she says, stroking her finger along the mermaid’s tail. “Could go down on her, no problem.”

“Him,” Harry says after a slight pause.

“What’s that?”

“Him,” Harry repeats. It’s not something he’s thought about before, and maybe it’s silly and doesn’t matter, but in this moment, it feels important. “My mermaid’s a he.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Camille says, biting her lip. “I shouldn’t have assumed. Has he got a name?”

“Think his name might be Harry.”

“Well it’s an honour to make his acquaintance,” Camille says. She pets her finger right over the mermaid’s inked crotch, and then she ducks her head, sucking a small, wet kiss to it.

“Think he likes you,” Harry says.

“Well, I like him,” she says. “It’s a good name for him. Harry. I think it suits him.”

“Why is that?”

“He’s lovely, isn’t he?” she says with a soft smile.

“When I got him, the artist told me he was in the middle of transforming,” Harry says. “Fish to human, or human to fish. He said it was up to me to decide.”

“And what do you think?”

Harry looks down at his forearm like he’s seeing it for the first time. He really looks at the drawing, sees the way the fin curves elegantly to fit the shape of his arm. He sees the pussy nestled demurely between his mermaid thighs, sees the way his arms cradle his head, chest thrust out proudly. Harry can tell that this mermaid loves his body, that every last bit of it is exactly how it should be.

“I don’t think he’s becoming anything at all,” Harry says. “Think he’s perfect the way he is.”

“He is,” Camille says. She slides her hand down Harry’s wrist and grips his hand in hers, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I think he’s absolutely perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr post](http://1000-directions.tumblr.com/post/168453777804/part-of-your-world-by-1000-directions-for)


End file.
